Harry Potter and the Parody of Fanfiction
by hidingzeus
Summary: This is, as it says, a parody on the majority of the Harry Potter fanfiction out there.
1. Harry Wakes Up

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Chapter One:

"Potter, get your lazy bum out of that bed this instant."Uncle Vernon's voice could be heard even over the sound coming out of Dudley's room. He had gotten a new videogame.

Harry slowly and reluctantly crawled out of bed. He did not want to get up as he had not yet decided what kind of mood he was in yet. Was he A) going to wallow in the depths of misery over the deaths of Cedric and Sirius (again) eschewing, yes, you read that right, eschewing, his friends completely and retreating into a shell of his former self until a certain Slytherin (also known as the Slytherin Sex God) came to the rescue, even though he had never before shown signs of being gay or B) decide that life was living after all especially now that Voldemort was defeated (though the author does not wish to say how he was defeated mostly because she wishes to get that bit of misery out of the way so she can concentrate on a sappy love story instead).

He decided to go for option B. He was never much of one for dark and angst anyway. He was, after all, a Gryffindor.

Thanks to Voldemort's convenient demise, Harry now had time to devote to all the girls in his life, though his present dilemma seemed insurmountable: should it be Ginny who had hero-worshipped him in first year and who, we, as in the audience reading the story and the author because she loves messing with other peoples lives, are going to conveniently forget, has a boyfriend (And the author is going digress a moment because she would just like to congratulate all those out there who followed that last sentence as it was not exactly coherent). Or, would Harry go for Hermione, the faithful best friend who had helped save the day, and likely the world, so many times with her vast amounts of knowledge she got from reading books larger than herself. Though in this case, Hermione too had a crush on someone other than Harry: Ron, the other faithful best friend who has also suppressed feelings for his friend and will continue to repress feelings for her until the seventh book. But again, the author digresses.

Having made his decision, choosing between option A or B of course, not Ginny or Hermione as of yet, Harry strode over to his closet and flung open the door, its meager contents arranged carefully on the shelves. Nothing suitable for wearing to the Burrow where he was going in a few days (and would meet both ladies in question). He would have to go shopping, a prospect that, for unknown reasons, had not yet occurred to him, though he had enough money in his Gringotts account and it was simple matter of changing it into muggle money.

Now, however, he pulled off the clothes he slept in (because the author had decided that a great, handsome, and, of course, sexy hero such as himself would not be caught dead wearing pajamas and so put him into a t-shirt and boxers for the night), and gazed into the mirror that hung on the open closet door. As he gazed, he thought about how much he had changed.

Even though school had vacated a mere three weeks ago, Harry had shot up in height. He had grown about eight inches, standing at just over 6'3". Also amazingly, one might even go as far as to say unbelievably, he had gained muscle "in all the right places" (though the author here pauses to wonder where a wrong place to gain muscle would be), although the Dursley's still did not give him enough to eat.

Now he stood, admiring his form, completely ignoring the fact that the act of doing so was decidedly out of character. "Not bad, Potter. Not bad at all." he thought to himself, also ignoring the fact that to refer to himself in such a manner was also out of character.

He ran a hand over his hair. It was getting a little shaggy. "Maybe I'll have it cut while I'm out shopping today." he mused. Yes, mused. Because this is Harry Potter and he can never just think, he has to muse.

He pulled on an old shirt of Dudley's that had shrunk in the wash and that showed off his biceps quite nicely since he had torn the sleeves off (so he would not get as hot when he weeded his aunt's garden, get your mind out of the gutter). He also pulled on the tightest fitting pair of pants he could find (because they had once been Dudley's and were none too tight to begin with and he could not at the moment find a belt, of course. What it with you people and your dirty minds?) He then went downstairs to help his Aunt Petunia make breakfast, ignoring his uncle who claimed he had the worst hearing in the world and who was shaking his fist at him from the bottom of the staircase.

Author's Note:

Just a bit of explanation here, this story was born out of an attempt to see just how out of character I could make Harry. I also wanted to do a parody on a good majority of the Harry Potter fan fiction out there. If you don't like it, don't continue to read it. Any critique, good; bad; or otherwise, is welcomed.


	2. Harry, Muggles, and the Knight Bus

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Chapter Two:

As soon as the breakfast dishes were cleared and Harry had washed them, weeded the garden, painted the fence, re-roofed the house, washed the clothes, vacuumed the house, folded the clothes, made lunch, washed the dishes, ironed and put away the clothes, and painted the house, he dashed (Yes, dashed. Because Harry Potter cannot simply walk, he must dash. Although it might also have been due to the pot and a half of strong, black coffee he drank to help him get through chores) outside (Again, the author would here like to pause and congratulate all those who followed the last sentence as it was lacking coherence).

Quickly, before Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon could catch him to make him do yet another mind-numbingly boring task, he stepped to the curb and, unmindful of the fact that: A) he wasn't allowed to do magic outside of school and B) it was broad daylight and there were many Muggles around with nothing better to do tan stand in their front yards and look right at Harry, he stuck his wand high in the air (There, I bet you though I'd never get to the end of that sentence, huh?).

Immediately the following things happened: 1. Every single Muggle on Privet Drive focused their suspicious stares on the clown riding a unicycle while juggling lit flamethrowers and singing _The Barber of Seville_ at the top of his lungs (in quite a nice baritone, actually) at the opposite end of the street from Harry and 2. The Purple Knight Bus appeared with a loud crack, taking out the neighbor's, whose attention was still unwaveringly focused on the clown, trash bins in the process.

The door was flung open wide and there stood Stan Turnpike, grinning at Harry like a terribly excited person who is as excited as a terribly excited person who has a really good reason for being terribly excited. He proceeded to greet Harry like the prodigal son.

"Oi, Neville! How you doin' these days? How's the whole fight with You-Know-Who coming?"

Without waiting for Harry's answer, Stan lumbered recklessly on, "you know I think I read somewhere in the paper that a chap by the name of Harry Potter killed him here awhile back and I says to Ernie here, I says 'Ern! I bet this Harry Potter everyone is going on about is our good friend Neville' and here you are, riding my bus! So, where you headed off to Neville?"

Harry once again reminded Stan to call him Harry and directed him to take him to the Leaky Cauldron.

Immediately after being dropped off as per request at the front of the Leaky Cauldron (again in front of a large crowd of Muggles), Harry made his way through the admiring throngs (yeah, you like that? Harry has admiring throngs. I bet you don't have admiring throngs. Jealous, aren't you?), to the majestic steps of Gringott's bank.

After shoving the last admirer along with a signed photograph (not unlike a certain former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor we all loved to hate, well not really hate, more like laugh at), Harry strode up to the counter, fished his key out of his pocket and slapped it on the desk.

"I'd like to make a withdrawal," he said loudly for the benefit of the goblin behind the desk who, although small in stature, was certainly not deaf. The goblin regarded the key wit some suspicion, bit into the metal and nodded at Harry.

Moments later he was whizzing his way down the tunnel to his vault. To make a long story short (I know, I know. Too late.), he got his money out of his vault and exchanged it for Muggle money.

Next Up: Harry goes to London.

Author's Note: Again, I would like to emphasize that this story stems from an attempt to poke a little fun at all the bad fan fiction out there. If I've offended you in some way, I am sorry and please feel free to not continue reading the story. If I haven't, please give me some sort of critique, be it good, bad, or otherwise.


	3. Harry meets a friend

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Hare now had the funds necessary to shop in Muggle London. But where to go? He needed someone to come with him, someone who could tell him how hot he looked in better fitting clothes and with a new haircut. Someone like… that cute redhead standing out on the corner looking as if she had been waiting for him all her life.

The cute redhead, as we all by now should be aware, was none other than Ginny Weasley. But not the Ginny Weasley we are all familiar with. Oh no, this was a new Ginny Weasley, a taller Ginny Weasley who was now, dare we say, _hot_.

She too had changed radically in the short time since leaving Hogwarts. She had grown several inches and had also gained curves in "all the right places (and yes, the author does know where the wrong places to gain curves would be)." She was now incredibly well-endowed, despite being quite flat-chested up to this point in her life, had a tiny waist, and, of course, a perfectly shaped derriere. Her hair rested just above that delicious derriere, silky and straight.

All of this flashed through Harry's mind a split second before Ginny caught sight of him and began jumping up and down (bosom heaving) and yelling, "Yoohoo, Harry, darling! Harrrreee! Over here!"

Harry casually ambled over to Ginny and struck a pose, trying to flex his incredible newly acquired muscles as much as possible, again ignoring that to do so was extremely out of character.

"Harry, how good to see you!" Ginny squealed. "What are you doing in Diagon Alley? It's only July. You shouldn't be getting your school things until at least August." She bowled on, giving Harry no time to respond, "No matter, what are you doing today? Do you want to come with me? I have to go to some sort of Muggle store in London and buy some present or other for Dad for his birthday. Mum said he wanted some sort of plug thingy, but I don't know what they look like." Here she pouted a little before she continued, "It's so good I ran into you. You can come help me find him something. Please, come. Pretty please?" Here she needed to pause for breath, allowing Harry to finally get a word in edgewise.

"Perfect, I have to go to Muggle London myself to get some new clothes. All of my other clothes do not fit since they were once Dudley's and he is resembling an overgrown Flobberworm more and more these days. Would you mind helping me pick out some new clothes?"

"Of course! We can go all over. I love to shop for clothes. It's what I do best!" she added perkily (yes you read that right, perkily).

They walked together toward the entrance leading to the Leaky Cauldron, Ginny keeping up a running stream of conversation's opposite the entire way, and were just passing the bookstore when they heard a low whistle calling out from the darkened doorway.

Harry and Ginny both looked over to the doorway. There, leaning up against the doorpost, hip jutting out was Hermione. But not the Hermione we have all become familiar with over past years. This was a new Hermione. She had grown as much as Ginny and had an equally impressive rack. She wore a black miniskirt, a red halter top, of which her rack filled nicely, one might even go so far as to say overflowingly (that is one might if one were a 13-year-old fanatic who makes up words because she's too lazy to look the word up the dictionary. As I am not a 13-year-old fanatic who makes up words because she's too lazy to look in the dictionary to check and see if overflowingly is a word, I will stick with nicely.

Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Hermione trying out her new look as a sex kitten or some equally nauseating moniker. We shall proceed with the description. Her hair was blown straight with blond highlights everywhere, floating as if with the breeze. Her black stiletto heels added to the overall ensemble, making Hermione look like a cheap whor- sex kitten.

"Hey there, big boy," she called playfully. "How you doin'?"

"We're going to Muggle London to buy my Dad a birthday present. Harry agreed to help me. And then we're going to shop for a new wardrobe! Want to come?" Ginny gushed.

"Do I want to come? Do I want to come? Oh, yeah." said Hermione. "Let's go."

They left Diagon Alley and entered The Leaky Cauldron before finally making their way to Muggle London (of which the author knows nothing and is now going to describe London as if it were a mall in the middle of America).

And here we leave our intrepid er- warriors to travel to Muggle London to see if they can find Ginny's dad a plug and Harry a new wardrobe.


	4. Harry Goes to London

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Chapter Four:

When we last left our keen adventurers they were off to muggle London. Now, though the author is not from England and while she did have a few suggestions of what muggle London looks like, the author is going to eschew (yes, eschew. Where do you think Harry is getting his big vocabulary from?) those suggestions in favor of making absolutely everything up. This is not because she is especially rude but rather she is trying to make it as much like bad fan-fiction as possible, wherein the typical prepubescent American girl describes muggle London as a shopping mall.

Okay, then. On with our story.

Harry, Ginny, and Hermione stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron and, using Hermione's directives (Hermione's not Harry's because she really did know the most about shopping in muggle London), made their way to the shopping center of London. They were on a mission: find Ginny a plug for her dad's birthday and find Harry some decent clothes (a task that most females and some males have wanted to do since first reading about his absolutely tacky wardrobe).

They went into several different kinds of stores to accomplish these tasks. Finding a plug had been a fairly easy task. The group found a hardware store and Harry and Hermione had wandered around it, bored out of their minds- Harry because he'd often seen the inside of a hardware store when repairing or rebuilding his aunt and uncle's house and Hermione because, while she would be the first to admit that she looked incredibly hot, secretly missed her books and wanted to get back to her studies as soon as the author was finished with her.

Meanwhile, the shopkeeper was helping Ginny purchase a 'plug thingy' though the author is not sure if staring at her chest the entire time counts as helping. Ginny, though, was delighted with her purchase, a fact she shrilly proclaimed as they were leaving the store- the shopkeeper's eyes now fixed firmly to that aforementioned delicious derriere.

Once they finished at the hardware store, the trio decided to take a break and get some food. Actually Harry decided to break for and get food. Ginny and Hermione split a side salad, no dressing, no fat, no taste (the author would here like to point out that contrary to popular belief, the average mall side salad is not food as it has virtually no nutritional value and the author will also stop here, lest she get on her soapbox about the difference between good food and what the average person put into his or her mouth).

Finding Harry a suitable wardrobe proved to be much more difficult than finding Ginny a plug. There were many factors involved in finding Harry clothes, the first and foremost being what style he should choose.

Should he go into Hot Topic and go punk fulfilling fan girls' dreams across the globe? Should he choose all-out goth even though that option would mean he would have to go back to brooding over Sirius's death? Should he choose cowboy (an option provided here because the author has actually read a cowboy version of Harry Potter- and it terrified her)?

No, what he finally ended up with was the only other sensible option, particularly since this Harry seems to be a bit cocksure: he chose to go for a laid-back preppie vibe (the type of clothing sold in Aeropostle or Abercrombie and Fitch) mostly because then the author won't have to reveal how little she knows about the punk and goth cultures. And because it fits the image of the cocky school athlete. Plus, the only other option she could think of was gangsta thug and she wasn't sure if the world was ready for a gangsta Harry Potter.

Whatever the reason, once Harry outfitted himself with clothing, Hermione and Ginny pouted at him while he rippled his muscles under his new polo shirt until he finally agreed to go to a beauty parlor a few stores down to get his hair cut.

This was perhaps the hardest decision of all: what hairstyle to get. Certainly he had many options in mind and indeed, the author had many options in mind, many involving clippers.

The problem was a most singular phenomenon of fan-fiction: Harry's hair, no matter what style it was in, refused to lie flat but rather grew all over the place and there was no changing it. Try as she might, the author could not get his hair to cooperate. It was the one thing that stubbornly remained canon. And so the author conceded defeat and allowed his hair to remain.

Outfitted with new clothes, with Ginny and Hermione hanging onto his arms (making it quite difficult to carry all his various bags), Harry made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron. Here our intrepid warriors having fulfilled their quests, parted ways so the author could forget about transitions and jump directly to the Hogwarts Express part of the storyline.

Coming up in chapter Five:

Did Ron undergo a transformation similar to Harry, Hermione, and Ginny? Will the girls of Hogwarts be as affected as the girls outside Gringotts were? Will the author ever stop referring to herself in third person? These questions and more will be answered in the next chapter.


End file.
